It is only so long before one man can't take the stresses of poverty any longer... before the hunger and the greed takes over and the morals of society matter not. I cannot continue like this. Today is the day I take what is not rightfully mine and enjoy it. I have suffered far too long while they all prosper. Stolen coins, pilfered bread, it is not enough. I need something big. I need something to completely turn my life around. Today is the day.

...

I woke up to the cold patter of the rain. I was drenched from head to toe, shivering uncontrollably. I made my way from the hard park bench over to the nearby synagouge and pulled on the door. Locked. It was late at night and the only light came from the windows of the towering apartment complex. Lucky bastards with their soothing heaters and their comfortable beds. Here I am standing out in the cold rain with no shelter and they have all the comforts they need and more.

I walked over to the nearby flower shop, hoping the owner was foolish enough to keep the door unlocked, but alas. The window, however, was opened just the slightest bit, maybe I could squeeze myself through and escape the rain. However, no matter how much I tried, it was hopeless. As skinny as I was, the window would not give enough space.

I walked into the middle of the street, exposed to all of the rain and sat down, knowing at any second a car could emerge from the darkness and take away the cold and he hunger. I stared at the diner, dreaming of what lied just beyond the door. I knew that in the morning, the smells would fill my nostrils and I would once again struggle against the urges to burst in there and grab the food off an unfortunate man's plate.

Jealousy. Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy.

Just then, two blinding lights approached from Baker Street. Right before they came close enough to end it all, a loud screeching sound filled the neighborhood, and the lights veered a sharp right. All of this was followed by the shout "Damn low-life!" from late night bastard behind the wheel.

Those words were just enough to set me off. I grabbed the nearest chunk of gravel and hurled it at the car. The glass shattered and I ran off towards the park to escape the wrath of the driver, however, after a few strides, I noticed that there was an absence of an engine roaring after me, or the cursing of an enraged late night bastard.

I stopped and turned around and faced the scene. Only the low rumble from the stationary vehicle could be heard. I cautiously walked up to the car and looked through the shattered window. Shards of glass had embedded themselves inside the driver's face and neck. The chunk of gravel lay in the passenger seat. It had gained a splotch of crimson on one side, obtained from its skull crushing collision.

I stood there, shocked. Amazed. Guilty. Empowered.

This is what it is like to be free.

Grumble.

I cannot imagine a time where I've been hungrier in my entire life. I think this is the third... no, fourth meal in a row that I have gone without.

Grumble.

"Yes, yes, I heard you the last five-hundred times," I replied.

Grumble.

"Please, go bother someone else! I've had enough of you!"

Grumble?

"Beat it!"

And just like that, it stopped. It was as if my stomach had given up on the thought of food, as if it knew that its pleas were useless. Now I walked in complete lonely silence down the street. It wasn't long before I started to miss the heated conversation I had with my belly. It even got to the point where I begged it to grumble just so I could have someone to talk to--to share my misery with.

A totally unexpected response occurred: Meow.

I gasped, afraid I had finally descended into the realm of insanity, but was relieved to see that behind me stood a small kitten. It was now that my stomach decided to re-enter the conversation, but this time, I only heard its low voice shout "Get him!" At that moment, I pounced at the cat, completely controlled by my starvation, yet the cat had sensed that something was strange and quickly evaded my grasp.

"Get back here!" I shouted, sprinting down the street after it. As I ran, I bent down and grabbed a handful of rocks, throwing one after the other at the bite-sized kitten. One actually managed to hit its target on the bounce, but the kitten survived the attack unscathed and scampered off into the graveyard. I stopped and gasped for air, disappointed that along with breakfast, an opportunity for lunch had been missed as well.

However, not long after I had caught my breath, I noticed a crowd of men outside the bakery across the street. They weren't very spectacular men, to be honest. Many had tattoos littered across their bodies and none of them looked very intelligent (trust me, when you walk the streets as much as I do, its an easy trait to spot in people).

Out of curiosity, I made my way over to the crowd to see what was going on. It was rather funny, because no one really seemed to notice me since I blended in so well. Before I could ask someone why there was a gathering, a man with a tense expression on his face (most likely the baker) opened the door to the bakery and beckoned the group in. Given this opportunity, I would have swiped some bread, had the baker not given me a loaf free of charge.

The group followed the baker into a different room, so I quickly took my leave, unnoticed and bread in hand. I was so excited that I almost dropped the loaf in the middle of the street! (Not that it would have mattered, I would have eaten it anyway!) I sunk my teeth into the hard crust and almost cried out for joy as the warm bread descended my throat to my deprived stomach, who no longer moaned continuously.

With high spirits, I walked back towards the park. The bus was just arriving at the bus stop, and only one man got off. He wore a cowboy hat with blue overalls and held a guitar in his right hand, displaying an extremely quirky smile across his face.

Its that kind of personality that gets you screwed in this city, I thought to myself. I wouldn't be surprised if I saw him out here on the streets sometime soon.

Without taking time for a second thought, I chomped into my bread and aimlessly continued walking down the streets of Washington Heights.

Ricky Shay: Homeless

The gold coins rained from the sky as usual, while one hundred dollar bills grew by the millions on the nearby trees. I was sitting back on a couch made of solid gold, but not the rock-hard gold, the soft, leathery gold. The house, of course made of gold, reflected brilliantly the rays of the hot, golden sun, on to the exquisite Golden Dragon restaurant, while the children all read Goldilocks.
And thats when it hit me; and by it, I mean today's paper. There I was, lying on the hard park bench, squinting out into the dark world, the degrading laughter of a 13 year old squirt fading in the distance.
"Lousy paper boy!" I shouted as I rubbed my forehead, where the newspaper had ever so roughly ended my slumber.
When my anger had faded, I noticed that it was quite chilly outside. The thought crossed my mind to hunt down that 13 year old sunuvabitch and steal his clothes, leaving him completely humiliated and me with extra layers for the incoming winter. However, that was out of the question, for he was already three blocks away--practically out of the city and onto his next residential neighborhood. The little I had to eat the day before wouldn't provide near enough energy to catch up.
Yet before I got to scavenging, I had to deal with priority number one. I walked over to a nearby tree, and not even bothering to look around, I relieved myself. It was early, who was up at this hour? The sun had not even crested the horizon. Besides, I'm not the first hobo to pee on a tree. What do I have to worry about?
As I finished up, I looked over at the nearby restaurants across the street. My stomach rumbled loudly at the thought of the taste of a real breakfast for once. I'm sure if I had the choice of any breakfast, I would most certainly pick pancakes. Yes! Pancakes! Oh, oh, with blueberries on them! It would be well worth it just to break into a pay phone and make this dream come true! Wait a minute... thats a great idea! Before dawn, I'm going to pry open one of those phones in the subway and buy me some delicious blue berry pancakes!
I turned away from the park and after a few minutes of walking, I had reached the entrance to the subway station. I descended the stairs quietly, examining my surroundings for any witnesses that could thwart my plan. Empty--the coast was clear.
I walked up to the pay phone nervously, baffled at what I was supposed to do next. There was the lock, but how was I going to get to the money? I remember seeing something in the movies once where a guy picked a lock with a paper clip, I guess it's worth a shot.
So there I was, on hands and knees in the dimly lit subway, crawling around in hopes of finding a paper clip... somewhere. I looked further down the hall, on a bench, under the bench, and whalah! There was a crooked paper clip lying in the dust.
I picked it up excitedly and ran, almost tripping, back to the pay phone. I bent the paper clip just enough that it could fit in the keyhole--the only thing in the way of my blueberry pancake fantasy. I wiggled the paper clip around and twisted my wrist, like a true amateur. I failed at the attempt quite miserably.
I hopelessly looked around for something to bash the pay phone with, yet, nothing reasonable could be found. I exited the subway cold, hungry, and demoralized.
"As much as I hate to publicly degrade myself," I addressed the empty air, "I guess I have no choice but to beg for my breakfast once again."